Tasting Gretel

by Lidiya Foxglove

  “But that is exactly what you’re meant to do. My lord, please don’t lose heart. Not after all I’ve done to bring you back. You look so pale.”

  “Time is running out for me.”

  “You will feel better the moment you taste her sweet sex.”

  I stroked myself harder at the thought of his mouth there. Hansel would be so horrified, but Hansel was one to talk. Hansel expected me to be chaste and good, when he was anything but. Hansel was going to be with Peter.

  “It will only be torture,” the Magus said. “For both of us.”

  “My lord, I know your current position chafes, but if you found yourself the right maiden you would be so strong again that the Wicked Revels would belong to you as much as anyone. I had all of this planned out! You need to use your magic. If you became valuable to the people, your position would be strong and we could make our move.”

  The Magus said in a commanding tone, “Take your cakes and go on. I have work to do.”

  “Of course, my lord, of course,” the man said, with faint chagrin. I heard floor boards and doors creak as the desserts were walked in and out. When he was gone, I tried to finish, but my mind was now wandering too much into other questions.

  I had heard of the Wicked Revels. A hidden realm where the fair folk danced the night away and made love with abandon. Sometimes the gates opened for humans. In the Wicked Revels, inhibitions were shed. Proper behavior, proper attire, proper manners: all these things meant nothing to the revelers. The rumor was that occasionally, a girl would go there and never return, because she married a faery and spent the rest of her life dancing and feasting in the land of endless joy. Supposedly that was how the kingdom of Torina lost their youngest princess.

  It sounded like the Magus needed me. Needed to taste me. Needed “the right maiden”. But my touch burned him. I wasn’t quite sure what all of this entailed, but I ached to find out.

  Magus didn’t go to bed that night. Down in the kitchen, I heard the occasional whacking of a knife or the metal clank of oven doors or tools for tending the fire. The clock chimed the hour. I seemed to drift in and out of sleep throughout the night, and at four in the morning I decided to pad downstairs.

  The Magus was pouring a pot of melted chocolate into a broad pan with a short brim. The warm chocolate seeped into the corners of the pan and he smoothed it with a spatula. Then he looked up and wiped his hands on his apron as he strolled around to the front of the table and leaned against it. “Gretel,” he said.

  “Magus, I—I couldn’t sleep.” I was working up to asking him the question.

  “Nor could I.”

  “I couldn’t help but overhear…” I rubbed my arms. “You said that we wouldn’t have found our way here if the forest didn’t want us to…”

  “You want to stay,” he said, cutting out all the preamble.

  “Yes. I do.”

  “You don’t know what you’re agreeing to.”

  “Then tell me.”

  “What I need from you will be torturous,” he said.

  Heat stoked inside me. “What do you mean?”

  “I need your desire,” he said. “I need you to feel it burning within you like a star. If I had the magic of your desire, my confections would be an irresistible aphrodisiac for the dancers of the Wicked Revels, but my magic is sapped because I have nothing to feed it. But you see, your desire will only be stoked. Never fed. I can’t touch you. Not even through a glove. And I am forbidden from bringing you complete satisfaction.”

  “Forbidden? Who forbids you from touching me?”

  “The King of the Revels.”

  “Why?”

  “To make a long story into a short one, I once tried to seduce his wife, before they were ever married. I will tell you the long story later, over a glass of wine, if you choose to stay.”

  “So we—we just look at each other and feel desire and never touch?”

  “More than that,” he said. “I have many ways of stoking your desire and I will make use of them. I will test how close to the brink I can drive you. Again, and again…and again.” He walked closer. “I am very good at this.”

  “What will you do?”

  “If I tell you, half the fun of it is lost. But I think you can imagine some things I might do. If you don’t think this will bring you pleasure, if it doesn’t intrigue you far more than it concerns you, then you are not the right girl for the task.”

  I am very good at this. I’ll bet he was. I was turned on just looking at him, at his simplest gestures—the finger tapping on the counter, the legs crossing as he leaned. I wanted to know why my touch burned him. I wanted to see if he could, indeed, drive me to the brink. It was a challenge. I was not easily driven anywhere.

  But if anyone could, he was the one.

  “It does intrigue me,” I said, my voice a low whisper.

  “Does it,” he said, not so much a question as two careful words, poking at my resolve. “You are very hungry, and I have plenty to eat. If you are intrigued for the wrong reasons, you will regret it deeply. Tell me and I will give you an ample supply of food and send you on your way.”

  “I am not agreeing for the wrong reasons,” I said. “It’s easy enough to find bread. Some other things I wish for are harder to find.”

  “Do you realize what I’m asking of you?”

  “You are offering me endless anticipation without satisfaction.”

  “Yes, Gretel. Why do you want such a life?”

  “Because…” I struggled to explain. “I have wanted to be an artist. We could barely afford paint, so I embroidered dresses instead. It was the only medium I had. So I plan out the pattern, and I get to work, and I see it all take shape…and then it’s done. It never looks as beautiful as I thought it would, and worse…it’s over. It’s just over and there is nothing more to produce. I hate that part. Food is much the same. The best part of a meal is the moment you sit down and look at it and smell it and know you’re about to eat it. Anticipation is the best part of life. ”

  “But what if you never got to eat it?” He narrowed his eyes at me. “That is my situation and I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. I am forbidden from having anything I really want.”

  “I want to stay, Magus. Please. Is there some special word I have to speak?”

  This was the first time he looked like he believed I might actually stay, and it was marvelous to behold, even though it was just a little light that flared in his eyes. He finally peeled off from the table and walked close to me, looking down at me. It would have felt right if he touched my cheek, but of course he couldn’t.

  “You swear it, Gretel? You consent to enter this bargain of mutual temptation?”

  I didn’t hesitate. It was as if I had always known this was a choice, and it was always the choice I would make. This man was full of mysteries, and this place was full of delights, and the life he offered was, as he put it, a torture. I didn’t know what he would do to me. I don’t know why I wanted this, but I wanted it more than anything. My endless desire to create beauty was already a torture, and somehow I knew he would drive me close to the stars.

  “Yes. I swear it.”

  He gave me a small bow. “So it is.”

  I wondered what to tell Hansel. He would never understand.

  “Go with your brother to Pillna,” the Magus said. “Stay at the inn there at the square. Tell the innkeeper, Anna, that you are pledged to me. She will offer you a good job at the inn. It’s a pleasant place. Hansel will like it. He will think he’s leaving you somewhere that is, in his mind, safe. Bid him goodbye, and then come back to me.”

  “You have it all worked out,” I said.

  “I’ve been waiting for you for three long years,” he said. “I didn’t think you would come. I certainly didn’t think you would be a half-starved slip of a peasant girl. But I shall put some meat on your bones now. Now, you should go back to your bed and get what sleep you can. It’s still a long walk to Pillna.”

  Chapter Three


  Gretel

  Of course, Hansel was up the very moment the sun’s light started turning back the darkness. Clearly, he had not heard me go to visit the Magus, but I could tell he still sensed that something was afoot. He hustled me out the door and would not even sit down to breakfast.

  As soon as we left, Hansel said, “The way you looked at him, Gretel.”

  “So, I’m not allowed to think and I’m not allowed to look.”

  “Don’t make it out like I’m the unreasonable one. If you find work at a shop and some handsome man walks in, are you going to draw the proper boundaries?”

  “I’m not a silly flirt. Flirting is full of pretense, and I’m terrible at pretense. That’s the trouble. I look at people honestly and I try to find the honesty in them. I can’t help it. I don’t want to have it any other way.”

  “So, no,” he said.

  “Are we going to argue about this again?”

  He frowned. “I’m just glad we’re leaving, that’s all. That man is dangerous.”

  I couldn’t even feel guilty that I was going against Hansel’s wishes for me. I wanted him to be happy with Peter; why couldn’t he let me have what I wanted? Soon it will just be the Magus and me. He will do whatever he must do and I will have to succumb because I’ve agreed.

  I don’t know what sort of strange girl I was, for being so excited by the prospect. But I was no innocent. Besides the things I’d imagined doing with handsome boys, I’d run into my fair share of lecherous men. I could spot danger of that sort. I knew that wasn’t what the Magus promised. He promised a dance, elegant and controlled. He promised everything I would never get from a village boy.

  We walked all day before reaching Pillna by late afternoon. It was a generously sized town tucked into a valley with the Shadow-Wald looming around it. I guessed it to be double the size of Aupenburg. We spotted the inn from the top of the hill; it was two stories tall with broad exposed beams. Some of the patrons were sitting outside in a courtyard garden. I had never seen that before, eating out of doors. The tiny inn in our town was dim and grubby. By the time we reached the door, I was hopeful that Hansel would go along with my plan. Everything about the inn seemed eminently respectable. Fresh-faced girls set hearty meals and mugs of beer on proper tablecloths, and people of all ages were enjoying the fare in front of three tall windows. Behind the counter, souvenirs of Pillna were on offer: carved forest creatures and plates hand-painted with pictures of the town square.

  “We won’t be able to afford this place,” Hansel said, glancing around with his hands in his pockets, no doubt feeling the weight of our few coins. “We still have a ways to go.”

  “Maybe we could work for our room,” I said.

  “They seem to have plenty of workers already.”

  “Let me try,” I said. I asked one of the waitresses for the innkeeper and she brought out a rosy-cheeked, plump woman with auburn hair tucked under a lace cap.

  “I’m Anna. What can I do for you?”

  Hansel was standing too close. “My brother and I are short on coin,” I said. “I wondered if we could work for room and board?”

  “We don’t—“

  I cut her off quickly. “The Magus told us to come to you. Please, madam.”

  “He did, did he?”

  “He gave us directions, that’s all,” Hansel interrupted. “Do you know the man?”

  “Not…well,” Anna said. “He’s a faery. He keeps to himself. He’s a part of the Wicked Revels and some folks would rather they all moved on. But—” She looked at me carefully. “Come on back. Your brother can wash the dishes and you can make the beds.”

  “Thank you.”

  Soon I found myself wrestling with large sheets in rooms fit for a nobleman. How did this inn enjoy so much prosperity?

  I was fluffing up the pillows when Anna came into the room and shut the door behind me. “Are you the one?” she said.

  I straightened. The one. A fresh shiver slid down my spine. “The one what?”

  “Are you going back to him?”

  The pillow slipped from my hands and I turned. “Yes…I want to. He said to tell you—”

  She nodded. “I know, dear, I know. You know that means you spent last night in the faery realm? His home is not a part of this world. You found it because you were meant to find it.”

  “So he said.”

  “God help you for all of our sakes.”

  “Why?”

  “The doorways to the Wicked Revels have been opening here often. Why should our town play host to the faery realm? It’s a curse as much as it’s a blessing but don’t tell them I said that; certainly my purse has benefited from the Revels. The faeries lure in girls of this town to dance. They slip out even the doors are locked. To keep us from fussing too much about it, the faeries come into town and patronize our business with silver and gold. We’re rich because of them. One day he came—your Magus. He said he was waiting for someone.”

  “Do you know why he’s waiting for someone?”

  “I don’t, but he looks to me like a man with something heavy on his shoulders. Some curse, I’d guess. The town will be relieved when the Revels move on, even if it means an end to our fortunes. I can only wish you good luck.”

  That evening, Hansel could not stop praising the splendid meal and how impressed he was by the cleanliness and organization of the kitchen. He slept well in the tidy little room Anna offered us. When Anna offered me a job in the morning, I could tell he was concerned over my proximity to the Magus, but he couldn’t argue with such a respectable establishment.

  “This is a good place for you,” he said, looking out the windows at the sturdy, well-fed village folk starting their work day as we ate hot porridge and ham. I could tell he was thinking there wasn’t much trouble I could get into here, compared to a large port city. I suppose no one had told him about the Revels while he washed dishes.

  Despite all of our arguing, I cried when we parted. Hansel and I had been through so much together, and our conflicts were born as much from our tense situation as anything.

  “I hope you have a chance to make beautiful things here,” Hansel said. “Please write even if the replies are slow to come. I don’t know where I’ll be.”

  “The same to you,” I said. “I hope you find a way to be with Peter.”

  “Little sister.” He embraced me hard. “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “For not judging me for loving him. I know we’ve argued about…other things. I apologize if my attempts to protect you have only put up a wall between us. But—it means a lot to me that—well, if you think I’ve sinned, at least you haven’t said so.”

  “Hansel, never!” I said, surprised he would even say that.

  “Well, why wouldn’t you? I worry over it myself.”

  “I never pay attention in church, Hans, I’m too busy making eyes,” I teased.

  I watched him walk away, lingering at the door of the inn.

  Then I changed into my Sunday dress and carefully combed my hair until it was a shining river of flaxen gold. I twisted it into a crown of braids and set off down the path from whence I had come.

  Chapter Four

  Gretel

  The cottage door was open, framing his tall, lean body. I could see him in the distance. No apron now. He wore all black. He looked completely in control, but radiated a pent excitement.

  I fed off him. My body was positively humming by the time I reached the door. My pulse was quick. I was slightly terrified now that the moment was at hand, but every nerve in my body was singing. I knew he was going to make me feel sensations I could never reach on my own. My hand and my imagination were a feeble substitute for the undivided attentions of a man who looked like sex and mystery made flesh. He looked at me like it pained him to tear his eyes away.

  “Gretel,” he said. “You are my Gretel now.”

  “Oh…” No one had ever called me such a thing before. It thrilled me to my bones but I
wasn’t sure if I should betray that yet.

  “We are in this together,” he said. “I can’t satisfy myself the way you could satisfy me, if I we were able to touch.”

  “Will you…ever be able to touch me?”

  “I hope so. But we must enjoy what pleasures we may. Come in. I have carefully planned our afternoon.”

  Carefully planned… I crossed the threshold, and although I had been here before, it all felt very different now.

  “You weren’t wearing this before,” he said, motioning to my dress.

  “I wanted to wear my finest for you now.”

  “You do have skill,” he said thoughtfully.

  “I hoped I would find some work of this nature in the city,” I said. “Until I ended up here instead.”

  “Quite a change of plans. Not as different a life as one might guess, however. Pleasure is its own sort of art. You’re looking for something. I hope you find it here. Follow me.” He waved me into the workroom, but now there was a new feature: a wooden rack opposite his work space. It reminded me of a large clock with four hands, two longer and two shorter, each with a restraint at the end. The hands could be moved around, but just now they were all positioned downward in a relaxed position, and it certainly did not escape my notice that they were just the right size and shape to hold my arms and legs.

  My desire was already trickling out of me, unbidden. This is really happening, I thought. I will be at his mercy.

  “Take off your clothes,” he said.

  “All of them?”

  “What do you think, my dear? I didn’t take you for a girl who would ask questions you already know the answer to.”

  I flushed, embarrassed.

  “You don’t need to feign coyness here,” he said. “I know you are as excited as I am.”

  I started unfastening the hooks at my bodice. He watched me for a moment as my hands trembled. The bodice loosened around my ribcage and although I was not some rich and idle girl who wore her clothes too tight just to look pretty, in this moment I was glad not to feel fabric clenching around me. I needed to breathe.